Trudging
by littlev123
Summary: "The excitement was gone…no, gone wasn't the right word. It was more like all positive emotions had fluttered just out of reach, and he could do no more than wait for them to return." Roddy has clinical depression, and today is a bad day. Oneshot. No pairings.


"—_test next week. I have to make sure the sound is the same after all the decorations are put in. My fire needs to be perfect! …oh, and Roddy…don't forget your medicine, okay? Ertegun OUT!"_

As the voicemail ended, Roddy watched his phone's screen until it turned dark from inactivity. The device lay on the bed bedside him; he hadn't wanted to pick it up when it rang.

_Had_ he taken his medicine? He released a long breath. After a minute passed, he forced himself to roll underneath the covers so he could see his desk. Bathed in the large monitor's artificial light, a half-empty glass of water and a prescription bottle sat next to pieces of a mecha figure.

Right, he'd woken up early that morning to watch an anime episode and start building his newest figure. It was limited edition and painted with gorgeous detail. He'd been eagerly awaiting its arrival for weeks, and it came in last night. Yet, upon waking, he immediately knew it was a lost cause. The excitement was gone…no, gone wasn't the right word. It was more like all positive emotions had fluttered just out of reach, and he could do no more than wait for them to return.

The effort it would take to put the model together was too daunting. So he had mindlessly popped his medicine, chased it down with water, and went back to bed until Ertegun called.

Despite having slept ten hours, he didn't feel inclined to leave his blankets. Faint frustration made his jaw clench. His depression hadn't weighed this heavy in a long time. Yesterday he'd noticed it mildly, and it was okay. Well, not okay, but it was expected—manageable. He couldn't think of anything that would have made it worse. In fact, thanks to Carole, Tuesday, and Gus, Roddy was outside more often than he used to be. Apparently his brain didn't care about that enough to stop these bad days completely.

Carole and Tuesday didn't know about his mental health. He had a feeling Gus suspected it.

Ertegun knew. Considering how often Roddy worked for him, it was inevitable the older man would notice when he was drifting through tasks. A few months ago Ertegun called him out on it more than usual, and Roddy blurted out the truth—making another excuse hadn't felt worth it.

Thankfully Roddy didn't have any jobs today. His hollow stomach growled. He ignored it. He would eat, just…not yet.

_Ding_.

His phone lit up with a notification. Several more followed as he picked up the device.

**Gus: every1, rehearsal today 3**

**Tuesday: Today?**

**Carole: Why are we just now hearing about this?!**

**Gus: i'll explain l8er**

Roddy stared at the digital keyboard. He had no desire to respond. However, if he didn't, it would lead to more trouble.

**Roddy: Sorry, I'm sick. Can't do today.**

They wouldn't want to be around him right now. Instead of being helpful, he'd only drag them down.

_Ding. _

They probably have more fun without him anyway, and he couldn't blame them. Sure, he had AI knowledge and connections, but a lot of people did. People who were better.

_Ding._

What else was there to him? Skinny nerd. Annoying pushover. Worthless child.

_Ding. Ding._

His hands were shaking. Forcing a breath past the lump in his throat, he stilled his fingers long enough to focus on the screen again.

**Carole: Okay. Feel better!**

**Tuesday: If you need anything, let us know!**

**Gus: k. take care of urself**

**Gus: we need u back asap**

Roddy read their messages three times before he set the phone down.

"Depression lies," his doctor had said upon writing his first prescription a year ago.

He lay there for a good while. His very being felt drained. But eventually, he did rise. Insecurities continued to gnaw at his vulnerable mind, and no logic could chase them away.

He walked to the tiny kitchen and opened the freezer. While he didn't want to eat, he should. A frozen dinner would do—easy and quick. He put it in the microwave, inputted the cooking time, and watched it slowly spin as it cooked.

His mech needed to be built, Ertegun had work for him next week, and Gus said he needed him back. Knowing that didn't lift the heavy blanket suffocating his joy, nor did it make dealing with his depression easier.

But he had reasons to keep his body going, and that was something.


End file.
